The Gods must be Crazy
by penbird
Summary: Wherein Seamus is the carrot and Harry's the donkey. But a brainy one.
1. Default Chapter

AUTHOR: Elizabeth  
  
TITLE: The Gods must be Crazy  
  
RATING: R...eventually  
  
DISCLAIMER: Last I checked, no-one was calling me J.K. Rowling. So...I'm not her. I'm just a bad-mannered person who takes her possessions without asking, and hopes she won't be sued into next week.  
  
NOTES: I've been reading a few really cute stories where Harry and Seamus hook up. Sadly, there aren't too many of these stories. I'm doing my bit to push the ship. 'Cause it's cute.  
  
NOTES 2: This is slash. Not so evident in this chapter, but I figure I should warn you, in case that ain't what you wanna read.  
  
SUMMARY: A convenient case of Festering flu brings Harry and Seamus together. But what happens next?  
  
FEEDBACK: If you could spare the time, it'd be really appreciated. Comments, constructive criticism...all very welcome.  
  
****************************************  
  
  
It wasn't supposed to be him. Harry was pretty definite about that...in a hazy sort of way.  
  
It should have been someone else. _Anyone _ else would have made more sense...except possibly Crabbe or Goyle. Harry felt his stomach flop over protestingly at the thought.  
  
Ron. The sensible gods who dictated the laws of probability had doubtless pointed Ron out as The One To Watch. After all, they _were _ best friends, and the triwizard tournament proved just how strongly Harry felt about the red-head.  
  
The gods who enjoyed a sporting flutter had probably pinned everything on dark horse Draco Malfoy. Maybe mumbling something about love, hate and the fine line in between as they did so.  
  
Harry was fairly sure that said gods were now muttering angrily and demanding their money back. Because...because - well.  
  
Seamus Finnegan. Who'd have seen _that _ one coming? Seamus, who had a quick smile that quirked his entire face into brightness, and whose extravagant turns of phrase almost made Harry embarrassed _for _ him.  
  
Seamus, who was Irish and best friends with Dean Thomas, and who Harry vaguely remembered meeting at the Quidditch World Cup...those were the things Harry would have associated with Seamus in the past, because Harry didn't actually know Seamus that well. He was just...part of the Gryffindor décor. Someone to call out pleasantries to across a classroom, someone to waste five minutes with if Ron was late, just another someone who would congratulate Harry after a Quidditch victory.  
  
Until now. Now...the gods in charge of Harry Potter were probably mutinying...because suddenly, five minutes didn't even begin to cover the situation.  
  
*******************************  
  
It had been entirely a matter of chance. No eyes meeting across a crowded classroom for them, no shy stares over a cauldron of simmering bobutuber pus.   
  
No. It had started with a chance outbreak of Festering flu. Most of the school had come down with it, and the hallways were depleting daily. When Ron had started rubbing his eyes and complaining about various aches, pains and unexplained swellings, Hermione had promptly packed him off to the infirmary, despite his protests.  
  
"Hermione! Honestly, I'm FINE! Honestly! You're such a...it's probably just tiredness."  
  
"Ron! This is _serious _. Madam Pomfrey wants anyone with ANY symptoms - no matter how mild - to go to the infirmary for treatment."  
  
"But that means two weeks quarantine!" Ron wailed. "I wouldn't mind if I was just missing classes, but it's the _weekend _ and Harry and I were going to" -   
  
"I don't care what you were going to do in Hogsmeade," Hermione said firmly. "You're going to Madam Pomfrey. Right NOW."  
  
Hermione had practically dragged Ron down to the infirmary, where Ron had been forced into a bed, and (much to her disbelief), so was Hermione.  
  
"But...but, I'm not sick!"  
  
"You look absolutely ghastly, girl. Your eyes! And you seem absolutely exhausted."  
  
"That's probably from being in the library so much. After a good night's sleep, I'll be fine!" Hermione had protested feebly.  
  
"Nonsense! In to bed! You're not leaving here until I can give you a clean bill of health. That will be in two weeks time."  
  
"But - I have so much studying to do! What about my work?!"  
  
"I don't want to hear you mention work or books for two weeks. Then, we'll see."  
  
So, despite her objections, Hermione was forced into a bed, and made endure Ron's smug looks.  
  
*********************  
  
And Harry? Turned out that the Boy who Lived was also the Boy who was Astonishingly Resistant to Festering Flu. It just wasn't as catchy a title.  
  
Seamus turned out to be just as hardy, though he cheerfully wrote it off as 'The luck of the Irish' when he met up with Harry.  
  
"So, looks like we're the only two warriors left for the side, huh?"  
  
"Um. I guess," Harry had said, glancing around at the nearly empty common room.  
  
"Going to Potions?" Seamus had enquired offhandedly. Without stopping for an answer, he barrelled ahead. "Well, what are we waiting for? Snape to take a passing interest in hygiene? Onwards, brave warrior."  
  
And onwards they had gone. Harry was relieved actually. It was good to have someone to knock about with, even if that someone wasn't Ron. The alternative was spending time with Parvati and Lavender, who were the only other Gryffindors unaffected. And Harry had never been comfortable with Parvati after the Triwizard ball. From the slight frowns she occasionally threw his way, he was guessing that she felt the same.  
  
And Seamus was fun, which Harry had plenty of time to discover, as the few teachers unaffected by the outbreak bent normal class rules completely out of shape. Except for Professor Snape, of course. And Professor Binns, whose acquaintance with real life could only be deemed to be a passing one.  
  
But Hagrid (who would probably be unaffected by anything other than a small plague) and surprisingly, Professor McGonagall, allowed them almost complete freedom in their classes. Though perhaps the Professor's leniency had more to do with the her slightly red-rimmed eyes than any softer feelings towards the six people left in her lectures.  
  
So Harry had a lot of time in which to find out that Seamus was fun, easy to be with, and - while not lacking in confidence - feeling just as thrown off balance as Harry was by not having his best friend. Harry could have sworn he heard Seamus addressing empty air a couple of times, turning around and starting - because there was no-one there. Harry had wondered idly, if Seamus actually understood the concept of 'private thoughts'.  
  
He got his chance to find out, when Seamus had latched onto him. And, once he got used to the constant chatter, it was almost enjoyable.  
  
Which was why, when a lovesick Hufflepuff sneaked in to the sick ward towards the end of the second week, and re-infected the patients (ironically, she was beginning a case of flu), Harry was disappointed, but resigned. He began to find Seamus' talk reassuring, and learned to blank out the actual words and drift away on the rhythm, which was maybe a result of Seamus being Irish, or maybe just of Seamus being Seamus.  
  
**************************  
  
"...did you get?"  
  
"Hmmm?" Harry asked, getting up from the Gryffindor table, which looked slightly ridiculous, with only four people scattered around it.  
  
"Never mind," Seamus sighed theatrically.  
  
"Okay." Harry pushed his chair in, and waited for the inevitable.  
  
"Really. It doesn't matter. It wasn't important. Which you'd know. If you had been listening, that is."  
  
"I'll take your word for it," Harry replied, smirking.  
  
Seamus rolled his eyes, and motioned to Parvati, who was walking to the door, deep in conversation with Lavender.   
  
"I _was _ asking how far you two got."  
  
"How far we got?" Harry asked in confusion.  
  
"Yes. I was wondering if you two ever strolled into Hogsmeade together of a Saturday," Seamus heaved a pitying sigh. "How *far * *you * *got *? As in - you took her to the ball...what dirty little secrets have you got on each other? Does she", Seamus grinned unashamedly, " ...dye her hair?"  
  
"How would I..." Harry trailed off as the meaning behind Seamus' words hit him, and with a loaded glare behind him, he marched up to the common room, Seamus' muffled snorts of laughter following behind him.  
  
******************************  
  
"So...how far *did * you get?" Seamus repeated unabashedly as soon as they reached the deserted common room  
.   
"C'mon, tell me! Tellmetellmetellmetellme. I promise I won't laugh", he wheedled, the spark in his eye, and the twitch of his lips disproving _that _ .  
  
Harry slumped against the headrest of his armchair. Seamus looked hopefully at him. He stared back.  
  
Seamus opened his mouth to begin a new attack. Harry cut him off with the announcement. "I didn't. Get anywhere, that is."  
  
"That's no fun!" Seamus exclaimed in disappointment. "I wanted a story of passion, intrigue and betrayal! I expected nothing less from you, Harry. You've disappointed me."  
  
Harry stared at him in bemusement as he continued.  
  
"I mean, I was all fired up to hear about how you whipped up a handy little potion to convince her to go with you, how it wore off at the ball - by which time you'd realised your true feelings for one another, only to be torn apart by jealousy as she danced with...I don't know, Viktor Krum, maybe."  
  
"Krum went with Hermione. He was crazy about her. I think they still owl each other sometimes," Harry interrupted.  
  
"Yeah, but you have to admit, my version was more interesting."  
  
Harry stared at him in disbelief. "I went with Parvati because I didn't want to go alone, and...and the person I wanted to go with...um, she went with someone else." He faltered, then continued more forcefully, "Anyway, what about you and Lavender? How, um...how far did *you * get?"  
  
"I don't know if I should corrupt your innocence," Seamus said thoughtfully. Harry made a face, hooked his foot under Seamus' knee and sharply tugged him off his chair.  
  
"Honestly Harry! Resorting to physical violence? I'd have expected better from you," Seamus tsked loftily, while grabbing a handful of Harry's robes and pulling.  
  
"Hmmpht," Harry exclaimed, hitting the floor.  
  
"I mean - that's the sort of thing I'd expect of me."  



	2. Enchanted Silhouettes

AUTHOR: Elizabeth  
  
TITLE: The Gods must be Crazy  
  
RATING: R...eventually  
  
DISCLAIMER: Last I checked, no-one was calling me J.K. Rowling. So...I'm not her. I'm just a bad-mannered person who takes her possessions without asking, and hopes she won't be sued into next week.  
  
NOTES: I've been reading a few really cute stories where Harry and Seamus hook up. Sadly, there aren't too many of these stories. I'm doing my bit to push the ship. 'Cause it's cute.  
  
NOTES 2: This is slash. Not so evident in this chapter, but I figure I should warn you, in case that ain't what you wanna read.  
  
SUMMARY: A convenient case of Festering flu brings Harry and Seamus together. But what happens next?  
  
FEEDBACK: …would be very welcome. All comments and criticisms valued(it's my first HP story, so…)  
  
Also - many thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter - that was WOW. And much much appreciated. Remember, it can only go downhill from here (sorry. My inner pessimist. I call him Frank).  
  
Anyway, thanks again!  
  
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"His long artistic fingers tangled in his messy dark hair, the colour of powdered ravenwing, and he took several steps toward her. Irrationally, the Lady Araminta felt some apprehension at his advance. She told herself sternly that she had nothing to fear from the Honourable Lord Hamish Bellingsworth. After all, she was one of the youngest witches ever to have graduated from the Bella Donnata Academy, and he was merely a Muggle. *Though he does have a sort of smouldering power about him * she thought, in spite of herself."  
  
"Seamus - what are you doing?" Harry asked in confusion.   
  
Seamus raised a hand in the universal 'be quiet' motion. Harry had no idea that Seamus knew what it meant.  
  
He continued reading, raising his voice slightly. "Araminta took a faltering pace backwards, as Hamish continued to press forward. His strong, beautifully shaped hands grasped her shoulders, holding her in place.   
  
'What the blazes do you think you're doing?' she inquired haughtily. 'Get your hands off me!'  
  
He laughed darkly, and bent his head close to hers. She could see his sea-blue eyes darken to storm colour as he whispered, 'No. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that night…that night at the Jasmine dance. Your lips, your jewel-like eyes, the living flame that is your hair. I NEED you Araminta, and I know you need me too. Open your stubborn heart.'  
  
With that, he devoured her mouth hungrily. Araminta found herself moaning in abandon as he kissed her as she had never been kissed before. His skilful hands cupped her face tenderly, and the instant that his lips touched hers, she knew that she was a woman owned - heart, body and soul."  
  
Seamus snapped the book shut and tossed it to Harry.   
  
"What do you think?" he asked.  
  
The dark-haired boy studied the black cover. The gilt lettering proclaimed the title to be 'The Taming of a Witch'.   
  
"Er…I would have to say that that was bad," Harry supplied finally. "Very bad, as a matter of fact," he continued thoughtfully. He studied the picture on the cover. He didn't think that people should look so abandoned, in such restrictive clothing. Even if half of it _was _ tastefully ripped off.  
  
"Fifty bloody pages of scene-setting, and _that's _ all I get! 'I like your big eyes Jasmine. I think you're quite snoggable really.'"  
  
"Wasn't her name Araminta?" Harry asked. Seamus flapped his hand dismissively.  
  
"Anyway, why are you reading…that?" he asked. He couldn't bring himself to actually say the title.  
  
"They're 'Enchanted Silhouette' books. All the girls read them."  
  
Harry vaguely remembered seeing books like that on Mrs. Weasley's dresser table sometimes.   
  
"Hasn't Hermione got any?"   
  
"Um…no," Harry said carefully. "I think if she read something like that, she'd probably start a campaign. She doesn't believe in girls being um…owned."  
  
Harry imagined Hermione reading 'The Taming of a Witch'. ("Honestly, Harry, it's archaic! It's like going back to the dark ages. I mean, here's a strong, powerful woman - suddenly she meets Mr Tall Dark and Titled, and she melts quicker than butter. It's an insult to witches - and women - everywhere! Someone should do something! If you want me, I'll be in the library looking up 'Wizards are from the dark Nebula, Witches are from Earth, thank you very much', a study of oppression in several volumes.")  
  
"Bet she has the ones where it's up to a Muggle girl to convince a wild-card wizard to change his ways, though." Seamus grinned.  
  
Harry shook his head to clear it. Then he shook it again, in case it worked better the second time. He sighed and settled for -   
  
"And you would be reading this because…?"  
  
Seamus shrugged. "Thought there might be something I could _use _ in there. But - 'He devoured her mouth hungrily'" he wrinkled his nose. "It sounds like he's sitting down to roast beef."  
  
A smile curled on Harry's lips. "I wouldn't have thought _you'd _ need advice on what to do. Thought you were already corrupted." He clucked disapprovingly. "I expected better from you Seamus."  
  
Harry watched in interest as Seamus schooled his features into a scowl. It looked out of place, like someone had superimposed it onto his face.  
  
"It's not the 'what to do' that I have p…it's more the 'HOW to do the what' that I'm looking for."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"I mean, it's not the sort of thing girls want to talk about, is it?"  
  
"What isn't?" Harry asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
Seamus rolled his eyes. "Technique. I mean - imagine it. 'Lavender, y'know when we snogged - oh, right, you don't like that word - fine, when we kissed…Was it a good practice? Are there any tips you could give me? In case I ever do it with someone that actually matters?'" He made a face.  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows. "I don't think that would go down too well," he agreed.  
  
"See?" Seamus sounded aggrieved. "All they _really _ want to hear is undying love, and how you were scared they'd say no when you asked them. Mention anything about tongue or body contact and they look at you like you're one of Hagrid's Flobberworms."  
  
"Um" Harry managed.  
  
"I mean - I think I'm okay - but there's always room for improvement and stuff and…hey!"  
  
Harry shied away from the speculative gleam in Seamus' eyes.   
  
"What?" he asked apprehensively, sinking feeling in his stomach.  
  
"Just lie back and think of Gryffindor," Seamus replied, and before Harry could wonder _why _ he would be thinking about the long-dead, gout-afflicted founder of their house, there was a sudden pressure on his lips and Seamus had expanded to become the only thing in his immediate line of vision.  
  
He jerked back in surprise, but blunt fingers slid around to the back of his head and held him firmly in place.  
  
Harry gave in to curiosity and relaxed. It wasn't really what he had thought it would be like. Someone else's mouth was attached to his and it was…strange. Not at all like the fixed poses in the old films Aunt Petunia used to watch. Instead Seamus' lips were soft and constantly moving.  
  
It felt like the kiss had been going on for a long time. Harry just sat back and tried to keep track of the new and odd sensations slipping through him.  
  
Unexpectedly, there was a small flickering at his lower lip and Harry opened his mouth - possibly to ask "What are you _doing _?" It was a good thing the introduction of Seamus' tongue rendered him speechless, because actually saying that, would have resulted in a mute Seamus, and a potentially embarrassing visit to Madam Pomfreys.  
  
Strange, thought Harry distantly, that something that sounded pretty…disgusting in theory, could actually be rather…pleasant. Seamus' tongue stroked and slid against his and he felt something a little like a full-body blush go through his entire person.  
  
And then, and then Seamus pulled back and it was over. He rocked back on his heels, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and looked at Harry expectantly.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Um," Harry managed intelligently.  
  
"How was I?"  
  
"That was…okay," He said cautiously. Seamus' face fell.  
  
"Pretty good actually," he hastened to reassure the fair-haired boy. Harry was feeling a little off balance. It felt a little too unreal to be heartening Seamus Finnigan about his kissing technique. Perhaps, he considered, it was all a dream.  
  
"Great! That's cool!" Seamus bounced back, immediately satisfied. He picked up the discarded novel again and flipped through the pages. Harry waited a few minutes before bringing up the inevitable.  
  
"Seamus?"  
  
"Yeah?" he looked up.  
  
Harry swallowed and feigned sudden interest in the cushion patterns. "How was I?"  
  
Seamus actually looked a bit embarrassed. "You were okay," he said hesitantly.  
  
*I wonder if those swirls are meant to be roses? * "Okay?"  
  
"Yeah. You were fine - just…" Seamus paused. "A bit of a Lavender," he finished reluctantly.  
  
Harry squinched up his eyes. *No, actually, I think they're rhododendrons * "A bit of a…?"  
  
"Nothing bad, really. It was pretty nice - just, just, you seem to kinda letsomeoneelsedoallthework," Seamus rushed apologetically.  
  
Harry flushed. "Well, it's not like you gave me much warning! I didn't exactly know what was coming. And I - I thought this was about _your _ technique! Which isn't…I mean, if I'd known we were _both _ um - assessing, I would have…" he trailed off miserably.  
  
Seamus stared at him in consternation. He probably wasn't used to delivering bad news, and had a woebegone expression on his face. Which brightened all too quickly.   
  
"But it doesn't matter!" He wilted under Harry's glare. "I _mean _ we can fix it. All it takes is practice, and we could _both _ do with some practice." He beamed hopefully. "What do you think?"  
  
Harry considered. It was quite a blow to be considered a - a Lavender, even if it was only by Seamus, and not Cho Chang, or Fleur Delacour or…or any number of girls whose names danced just outside his memory at the moment. Suddenly, his Most Important Things in the World list changed. Instead of 1) Stay alive, 2) Do best to ensure Voldemort's defeat 3) Win Quidditch World cup for Gryffindor, it became - 1) Make Seamus change his opinion, 2) Stay alive, 3) Make sure you are never again associated with Lavender in any way.  
  
"All right," Harry agreed, and closed the distance between them. He stared determinedly at Seamus, trying to figure out where to start.  
  
"Except…" Seamus began apologetically. "Could we leave it till a bit later?" He flapped the book in front of Harry.  
  
Harry stared disbelievingly at him.   
  
"She's just found out that Hamish MacWhatshisface is the son of the man who set up her father," Seamus mumbled sheepishly.  
  
Harry slumped backwards in resigned incredulity.  



	3. A New Thing. Possibly

AUTHOR: Elizabeth  
  
TITLE: 'The Gods must be Crazy'  
  
RATING: R...eventually (sigh)  
  
DISCLAIMER: These characters are not mine. They are not mine because I am not JK Rowling. I'm just a bad-mannered person who takes JK Rowlings stuff without asking and hopes she won't be sued into next week.  
  
NOTES 1: I've been reading a few really cute stories where Harry and Seamus hook up. Sadly, there aren't too many of these stories. I'm doing my bit to push the ship. 'Cause it's cute.  
  
  
NOTES 2: Yeah...whoops. Exams happened to this story. Exams happened to it so badly I wasn't sure about finishing it. But I hate leaving things unfinished.  
  
NOTES 3: This is slash. In case you've gotten thus far and haven't realised (which, considering my smut-writing, is actually a possibility)  
  
SUMMARY: A convenient case of festering flu brings Harry and Seamus together. Which results in A Beginning. Now the flu is over, and maybe...possibly...there could be A New Thing   
  
FEEDBACK: Most welcome. I kinda got out of the swing of this during exams, so all comments and criticisms valued (first story. In mucho need of guidance, since I would like to improve).   
  
Also, many many thanks to everyone who left reviews.  
  
**********************  
  
  
As Seamus' lips brushed his, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on reciprocation. It wasn't feeling so awkward now. In fact, if this was the sort of tingle Hermione got from learning, Harry finally understood the hours of library-time.  
  
Plus, if Seamus' was giving back even _half _ of what he was getting, then Harry was no longer in imminent danger of Lavender-hood.  
  
When Harry eventually opened his eyes, he saw white mist. He blinked, but it didn't clear. His panicked mind was left with one terrible conclusion…those awful stories Dudley had told last summer - were _true _. This sort of thing made you _blind _.   
  
He opened his mouth; maybe to inform Seamus of the situation, maybe to throw up - he wasn't quite sure. Before he could actually say anything, he felt pressure on either side of his nose. Oh. Glasses. He stared stupidly at the blurry, but thankfully Technicolor view of Seamus revealed.  
  
He squinted. Seamus appeared to be grinning  
.   
"Cool" he said, holding up Harry's glasses. "We got steam!"  
  
*****************  
  
Harry considered that things had worked out quite well. Yes, all things considered - quite well. He examined an every-flavour bean carefully before popping it into his mouth.  
  
He had had to manage without Ron and Hermione for four weeks - which, even with Seamus, had not been a pleasant experience. But - he _had _ managed. He had had fun, even. And more than that, he had…he racked his brains to think of the phrase Hermione was so fond of - he had utilised his time effectively. He hadn't moped around. He had acquired skills and knowledge which would come in useful if he ever…if Cho Chang ever…well, maybe he hadn't quite worked out the ending yet.  
  
And now…  
  
"…showed me how to do it too," Hermione said. "Really it was very informative. I think we should all be given training in medical wizardry. Well - maybe not in first year, but later, definitely. It would be an invaluable learning experience."  
  
Ron groaned. "Only you could be quarantined for four weeks and find it _fun _. Until last week, I hardly knew what was happening. Chills, sweats, that _stuff _ they put in my eyes…"  
  
"Powdered dragon's toenails dissolved in rosebane acid," Hermione said primly. A greenish colour crept up Ron's face.   
  
"And I don't know if I'd call it fun," she continued, "But I _did _ try to utilise my time wisely."  
  
Harry stifled a grin. Now, everything was back to normal.  
  
Except…  
  
He frowned. Seamus was on the other side of the common room. If it had been anyone else, Harry would have said he looked…lost. A couple of students (Dean Thomas included) were still in the infirmary. Something about an allergic reaction.  
  
Harry bit his lip. He and Seamus had spent a lot of time together, and it didn't seem…right, to just - ignore him. Before he could properly think about what he was doing, he called out, "Seamus!" and nodded towards himself, Ron and Hermione.   
  
"Um…it's - we hung around. A lot. When everyone was sick and," Harry mumbled to the others.   
  
Seamus grinned, a big easy grin, which almost made Harry re-evaluate the words 'Seamus' and 'lost'. Further re-evaluation occurred when Seamus squeezed in between Ron and Hermione and said brightly, "So, what're we talking about? Pass the beans."  
  
**********************  
  
It was at the point where Ron asked, "So, what did you guys do while we were out of action?" that Harry realised that their activities of the past few weeks weren't appropriate conversation material.  
  
And, as Seamus opened his mouth, Harry got the sinking feeling that Seamus did _not _ realise this. Harry shut his eyes and anticipated  
  
"Actually, Harry and me, we figured out how much tongue is enough, and that biting is not always a good thing. Wanna demonstration?"  
  
Acting independently of his mind, his foot lashed out under the table. Unfortunately -   
  
"OW! Watch it!" Ron scowled. "I've just got out of the infirmary, Harry."  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled.   
  
"Did you manage to get any revision done?" Hermione asked, not very hopefully. "After all, tests are just around the corner, and proper preparation prevents panic and perfects points."   
  
"Well," Seamus smiled mischievously. "We _did _ get a lot of reading done."  
  
Harry froze in horror. Suddenly, the past four weeks were looking…different, with Ron and Hermione there. He had no idea how 'reading' would end up revealing what he didn't _want _ revealed, but this being _Seamus' _ idea of reading…nothing good could come of it.   
  
Seamus tilted his head back and began talking to the ceiling. "He was stubborn. Of course Henrietta had expected that. However, he had never had to face _her _ before, and he was in for a surprise. Roland's fire would meet her ice and, though the conflict would be explosive, ice would be the clear victor."  
  
Harry frowned in confusion. Seamus surely wasn't attempting to explain them - the, the thing, in terms of Enchanted Silhouette books - was he?   
  
Then Hermione's face went bright red, and her mouth opened and closed convulsively.  
  
Seamus continued. "She hadn't expected to find herself so…drawn to him though. The man was a boor, that was clear enough. No manners and as for his attitude to women? _Merlin _ had been more advanced. Still, perhaps all he really needed was someone to teach him a lesson. And Henrietta Rollins was just the 'Muggle' to do it."  
  
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he had feared - but, judging from the look on Hermione's face - it was a close second. A distant part of him was amazed that Seamus had put himself to the bother of memorizing part of the book. Even if it was with the intention of causing humiliation and embarrassment.  
  
He glanced at them expectantly. " 'The Muggle and the Magician' Mills and Boom books. _Much _ more modern than Enchanted Silhouettes. You're a woman of taste, Hermione. I liked that one the best."  
  
Hermione looked like she might explode. "You…you…Harry!"  
  
"What?" he jumped.  
  
"I can't believe you rummaged through my things! That - that's private! I should"  
  
"I didn't" -   
  
"But it was just poking out of your book-bag…it was so tempting," Seamus interrupted.   
  
Hermione got to her feet, anger making her movements jerky. "I cannot believe either of you would do that. I can't…I'm sure it would even be a _waste _ of my time explaining how _rotten _ it was of you to do that. And I have better things to do with my time. I expected more from _you _ Harry."   
  
"Hermione! Wait!" Harry called. She didn't pause but strode off, hurt and straight-backed.  
  
"It was just a book!" Seamus exclaimed. But there was a small smile hiding at the corners of his mouth. Harry glared at him.  
  
"Told you!" he crowed.   
  
"What was that about?" Ron asked confusedly.   
  
**************************  
  
Harry was almost hoarse from apologising before Hermione would even speak to him. As for Seamus…Harry had the feeling that his name was entered into Hermione's black books with indelible ink.  
  
And even though Hermione claimed to have forgiven him, there were still occasional cold spells. Mainly whenever Ron opened his big mouth to ask her about the books. ("Do - do you…read often?") Which he couldn't seem to stop doing.  
  
"Hermione?" he'd spluttered, when Harry had explained it to him. "Hermione?! I mean…Hermione?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"But, it doesn't…I mean, she…Hermione wouldn't. She doesn't think about those…things."  
  
"Ron, I think everyone thinks about…things." At Ron's wide-eyed stare, he amended it to, "Well, maybe not Snape. Or - or Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Still…I mean - do y…have you" -   
  
"I should - go. Apologize to Hermione." Harry had beat a hasty retreat, before an honest nature and the demands of best-friendship made him blurt out that for four weeks, Harry hadn't thought about…things. Mainly because he'd been too busy doing them.  
  
***********************  
  
So, Harry had been relieved he heard that Dean Thomas (slightly pink-eyed) was out of the infirmary. He could stop feeling vaguely responsible for Seamus and everything would go back to normal.  
  
And everything did.   
  
Which was fine - exactly what Harry wanted. Except…well, he couldn't help but feel a bit…piqued. Not full-blown annoyed exactly, but there was definite pique. After all, he'd tried to include Seamus, and hadn't left him out when Ron and Hermione came back. But as soon as _his _ friend came back there were practically zoom marks on the carpet from Seamus racing over to take his place by Dean's side.  
  
Which stung a little. Harry reflected that it was not a nice thing to be dropped.  
  
But, really it was okay. Harry went back to Quidditch and classes and Ron and Hermione. He put the past four weeks out of his head, relieved that Seamus hadn't blurted it out to anyone.  
  
*************************  
  
And things were fine. Really. Harry had been absolutely, completely fine, right up until he realized that he wasn't. Which happened to be coming out of a Transfiguration Lesson.   
  
Dean and Seamus had been ahead of him, and Seamus had kept tugging at Dean's shoulder, while Dean resolutely ignored him. Which, of course, only made Seamus try harder for a reaction.  
  
A small curl of something unpleasant rose in his stomach. He remembered ("C'mon, tell me! Tellmetellmetellmetellme!") Seamus teasing him, focusing on _him _ during those four weeks. Which suddenly felt wrong and out of place.  
  
No. It made him feel…second-best. Substituted. Dean-lite. Like the way Dudley rolled his eyes up when Aunt Petunia made cakes with margarine instead of butter…but still managed to polish off eleven or twelve slices of it anyway.  
  
And yes, Harry wouldn't have spent time with him if Ron hadn't been sick, but…but…  
  
It was different, Harry thought. He wasn't quite sure how, but it was. And he was suddenly aware that he was not all right, and that the four weeks were not all right, and the fact that Seamus did appear to be all right irritated him immensely.  
  
Off balance, he did the only thing he could think of. He waited until Dean was distracted by something not-Seamus, tapped Seamus on the shoulder, and tugged him around the corner, and into a handy closet.  
  
*******************************  
  
Harry had a brief moment to wonder why there was a large janitorial closet, when Hogwarts didn't seem to have a janitor. Or at least, a janitor who would need mops, cleaning polishes and buckets of water.  
  
He didn't really have any more time to think about it though, as he shut the door, and pushed Seamus up against the well-stocked shelves.  
  
"Harry? What're you" - was as far as Seamus got before Harry kissed him.   
  
It probably wasn't a very good idea, but Seamus didn't seem to be complaining, and this was…different to the four weeks somehow. It seemed much more intimate in the dark, feeling the press of Seamus' lips and the smooth slide of their tongues.   
  
Harry took one more breath of lemon-and-pine air, and pulled back.   
  
"Wow. You're getting better at this all the time," Seamus said.  
  
What Harry _meant _ to say was, "Um…thanks," or "Sorry about that, don't really know what came over me." Then he'd be able to get out of this stuffy closet and this suddenly sticky situation with the minimum of embarrassment.  
  
Instead, he heard himself ask, "D'you ever do this with Dean?" As soon as he said it, he wanted to cut his tongue out. He could feel himself redden with mortification.  
  
"What?" Seamus asked. "Do I do what with Dean?"  
  
"T-this," Harry said, waves of heat passing over him uncomfortably.  
  
"This?" Seamus repeated. Harry nodded, before realising that Seamus probably couldn't see it. He didn't think it was possible, but his face got even warmer.  
  
Instead of answering the question, Seamus teased, "Do you? With Ron?"  
  
"With - what? No! We - no," Harry stuttered. "He's um…my best friend, but I don't - um. It would be - yick."  
  
Seamus considered. "I haven't either. Be too complicated, wouldn't it? Anyway, I have to go, we're meeting up before supper. You really are getting better at this. See you."  
  
There was a burst of light that made Harry squint. "Um - do you want to stay in there? Will I close the door?" Seamus looked honestly curious. "Oh, look - I've _really _ got to go. See you later." He shut the door before Harry could reply.  
  
**************************  
  
Harry slumped back against the shelves. This was, he thought, very confusing.  
  
This was A New Thing. He didn't think it was about festering flu, or the four weeks, or being dropped as soon as Dean Thomas appeared on the horizon. He didn't know what exactly it _was _ about, but he felt he deserved points for at least recognising that it was A New Thing. Hermione occasionally accused him of being unobservant. If only she could see him now. Wait - he reconsidered that last thought.  
  
He frowned. Speaking of observant, he wasn't exactly sure that their denials were on an even par. He was pretty sure that 'I don't. It would be…yick," was a stronger statement than, "I haven't. It would be complicated." This bothered him, for some reason.  
  
Granted, he hadn't had much experience with this sort of thing, but he suspected that he was having an Epiphany. He also suspected that Seamus was Epiphany-free. He found this annoying. 


	4. Carrot and Donkey

TITLE: 'The Gods must be Crazy'  
  
AUTHOR: Elizabeth  
  
EMAIL: nutshell11@hotmail.com  
  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Harry Potter. I can safely say that Ms. Rowlings version is very different to mine. I'm not making any profit from this...but I am having fun...  
  
SUMMARY: It was through the chance infestation of festering flu that our intrepid heroes were drawn together. Dark warred with light, ebony calshed against gold, but finally they succumbed to a passion greater than any they had ever known.   
  
Or, possibly - festering flu, bored Seamus...stuff happened.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Also known as The Part where Liz Justifies her 'R' Rating.  
  
Also known as the part where Liz exploits Disney, though not for her own selfish gain.   
  
Dedicated to Sara, cause she - um - read the fic  
  
FEEDBACK: Would be really appreciated.  
  
******************  
  
  
  
It was a pity, Harry thought, that not one of the upcoming exams would mention the back of Seamus' head. After three classes of staring at it, he felt sure he'd get a higher mark than Hermione even.   
  
He imagined the sort of questions that might come up about Seamus' head. He easily skimmed through the ones involving hair-colour, head-shape, and hair partings. He took a little more time on the complicated ones like - hair texture ('thick and rough…but sort of soft. Sort of'), and what the back of his head said about Seamus himself. ('It tells you that - that he's kind of careless, because it isn't brushed very well. And on the days it sticks up you know that he's' - )  
  
"…sleeping."  
  
*No, * Harry thought, that wasn't right. If there was one thing Seamus wasn't, it was sleepy. He had so much unfocused energy it was frightening. Sleepy was completely off target.  
  
"_Harry! _" Hermione whispered harshly. "Are you asleep?!"  
  
He jumped. Hermione nodded at the top of the class, where Hagrid was beaming down at him, like a delighted sun.  
  
"We did a bit about it while the rest of ye were sick. Harry'll be able to tell ye all about that. Eh, Harry?"  
  
He stared helplessly at Hagrid, who smiled trustingly back.  
  
"Um…."   
  
Into the stretched silence came a familiar drawl  
  
"Even his prize _pets _ aren't interested in what that savage has to say."  
  
Ron turned around in his seat, the better to glare at Draco Malfoy and his cronies. Harry dug his fingernails into his palms. They were short, so it didn't hurt as much as the bewildered look on Hagrid's face.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled.  
  
"No, no. Maybe…maybe the question was a bit hard."  
  
Harry dug his fingernails in harder. He considered growing them.  
  
****************************  
  
"Harry!" Hermione sounded scandalised.  
  
"What?" he asked, dumping his books onto the table.  
  
"This is _Potions _," she said. The tone of her voice suggested that Harry should be able to work it out for himself.  
  
"I know. That's why we're in the potions class. And why Snape is at the top of the room."  
  
"But…we can't sit in the _back _"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because Snape always picks on the people in the back. And he picks on _us _ no matter where we are. If _we're _ in the back, things can only get worse," Ron theorised gloomily. However, he slid in next to Harry.  
  
"And exams are right around the corner. How are we supposed to get a good mark if we can't _see _?" Hermione asked.  
  
Harry looked down. "I'm, um, sitting here. I can see fine." Which was true insofar as it related to Seamus' head, three rows in front.   
  
Hermione stared disbelievingly at him. Harry got the feeling that his actions were akin to graffiti or reckless destruction of property in her world.   
  
"Miss Granger, do you plan on blocking up my classroom indefinitely? Or are you going to sit down?"   
  
Hermione threw one last glance back, before sitting down…seven rows in front of them.  
  
"Spat with the little Mudblood girlfriend?" Draco Malfoy leaned over to ask.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to reply.  
  
"Potter! Five points from Gryffindor for talking after class has begun."  
  
He snapped his mouth shut. Malfoy grinned at his friends.  
  
As Snape began to talk, Ron scribbled something on his paper, then pushed it towards Harry. Trying to look enthralled by what Snape was saying, Harry snagged the paper, and read,  
  
"Are you OK? You're acting really weird."  
  
"Weasley and Potter - passing notes in class - ten points."  
  
They both shrank under Hermione's look.   
  
************************  
  
It was, Harry considered, all his fault. He was inexperienced with Epiphanies, but he was fairly sure that hurting Hagrid, losing points, and mooning over an oblivious Seamus was not how one handled an Epiphany.  
  
The trouble was - he wasn't exactly sure what else to do. Anytime he saw Seamus, he was with Dean. It was almost like they came as one. And Harry had no idea how to detach the Seamus-shadow from the Dean-body. He didn't have enough nerve to drag Seamus into another closet, and anyway he…  
  
A class-wide groan brought Harry out of his musings.  
  
Snape smiled coldly. "…only fair, I feel."  
  
Harry glanced quickly at Ron, who was staring open-mouthed at the top of the room.   
  
"What?" he muttered, through almost closed lips. Ron was too flustered to practice his ventriloquism skills.  
  
"He…he can't be _serious _!"  
  
"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, I am indeed serious. Due to the untimely outbreak of festering flu, most of you have missed a great number of my classes. I feel the provision of three extra lessons a week to help your studies is very generous on my part. As does the headmaster. Or would you prefer to wade through the information on your own, perhaps?"  
  
"No sir." Ron slumped in his seat.  
  
"_Three _ extra lessons a week?!"  
  
"These will take place in the evenings. Tuesdays at half past five, Thursdays at six, and Friday's at half past six. You might want to make a note of it, as I will not tolerate tardiness."  
  
Gloom settled like fog over the students. Ron viciously stabbed his paper with his pen, until it complained in a liquidy, ink-clogged voice. Even Hermione looked slightly disgruntled.  
  
Then a hand rose. Snape sighed long-sufferingly. "Finnegan, I thought I had made it clear to you that I do not allow bathroom breaks during my class. You will simply have to suffer."  
  
"No, that's not what I wanted. I have a question."  
  
"Then, pray let me note the date and time of such a momentous occasion," he said acidly.  
  
"'S twenty-five past three," Seamus said. Snape looked sharply at him, but even the back of his head radiated innocence.  
  
"Uh - sir. I was wondering…"  
  
"Out with it, Finnegan."  
  
"Well, do the people who _weren't _ sick have to go? I mean, I was here the entire time, and so were a couple of others."  
  
"Indeed. As if I could forget." Snape looked as if he'd swallowed something bitter. "Very well, anyone who was present for the last few weeks need not attend the extra classes."  
  
Seamus made the mistake of turning to wink at Harry. Harry made the mistake of grinning back at him.   
  
"_However _, I should hate to think of either yourself, or Mr. Potter feeling _bored _. Especially Mr. Potter, who no longer feels the need to occupy his usual seat." Snape smiled malevolently.  
  
"Come up at the end of class, and I shall assign a project for the two of you."  
  
*******************************  
  
Occasionally something happens to make one question the difference between Good and Evil: something that makes one question one's worldview. Harry Potter had had more than his fair share of these experiences.   
  
"Very well. Potter. Finnegan. You have a month to conduct research on the vermilion potion. You shall then compile a scroll dealing with the effects this potion has on warm-blooded mammals, cold-blooded creatures, magical animals, and lastly - how an adequately prepared wizard can negate the effects."  
  
"Ughn!" Seamus exclaimed in horror. It sounded more like four months work, rather than four weeks.  
  
"We can work together on this?" Harry asked hopefully.   
  
"As I am in no mood to correct _two _ woefully bad scrolls, yes, you may."  
  
As they made their way into the dining hall, Seamus complained about the amount of work they would have to do. "We'll be _old _ before we finish _that _. Promise you'll remind me to shave if my memory goes."  
  
Harry reflected that all his prior experiences regarding Good, Evil, and the differences between; had somehow failed to prepare his for…Snape, the inadvertent matchmaker.  
  
**********************************  
  
Harry stared at the blurring text in his lap. He sighed. The tiny writing was giving him a headache.   
  
"You know, _you _ could maybe try helping me with this," he gestured towards the huge pile of books on his bed.  
  
Seamus glanced up from his comic, then made a big show of looking around the room as if figuring out who Harry was talking to. Though, since it was half past five on a Tuesday, and nobody else was there, the ploy fell flat.  
  
Harry offered him a book.  
  
"Are you suggesting that I'm not pulling my weight?" Seamus asked indignantly. He appeared not to see the book hovering inches under his nose.   
  
"You wound me Harry, you really do."  
  
"Then how come I'm the one doing all the research?" Harry asked.   
  
"Because you're the brains of this operation," Seamus explained patiently. He returned to his comic.  
  
"And what are you?" Harry asked exasperatedly. "The lazybones?"  
  
Seamus affected a look of bewildered hurt. "For your information, I am the carrot."  
  
Harry clutched his head. Perhaps he was going mad. Maybe all the effort he had been putting into being casual around Seamus, had somehow affected his mind.  
  
"You're what?"  
  
"The carrot. You're the donkey."  
  
"I thought I was the brains."  
  
"Yeah, but you're also the donkey. You can be a brainy donkey if it makes you feel any better," Seamus offered in the spirit of conciliation.  
  
"……?"  
  
"You know, if you want the donkey to do something, you can beat him with a stick, or you can show him a carrot. I'm your carrot." With that Seamus stretched out on the bed and grinned. Harry swallowed.  
  
"I - I think that's all I can do for tonight. At least, without getting better glasses," he babbled nervously.  
  
Seamus nodded. "Okay. Wanna make out?"  
  
"…Okay…."   
  
****************************  
  
The rest of the four weeks were conducted along similar satisfactory lines. Harry had thought that perhaps they would need to Talk, but there were much more enjoyable activities to be…enjoyed. Also, he wasn't exactly sure what to say. This was a moot point since his tongue was in Seamus' mouth most of the time he was with Seamus.  
  
When they submitted their scroll, Snape refused to correct, "such absurd and infantile work. An untrained ape could draw better conclusions."   
  
"We'll be dead before this is finished," Seamus said gloomily. "We'd have been better off if we'd taken the extra classes. At least they're _finished _ now."  
  
"Mmm," Harry said noncommittally. He felt a little as though Seamus had stuck out a foot and tripped him.  
  
**************************  
  
He knew, logically, that there should have been a Talk at this point. But…well, they still had to work together on that scroll. And Harry saw no point in confessing his feelings only to be told, "I think this happened in one of the Enchanted Silhouettes. But Serena was already promised to Duke Deanston, and the attentions of the peasant Harrison were odious to her."  
  
And it wasn't like things were _too _ bad. After all, even if he wasn't Seamus' ideal, the other boy didn't seem to mind spending time with him, distracting Harry from research, and…and acting like Harry's own carrot. In fact, it seemed like the opposite. Even if it was more difficult to arrange the…other things, given that Snape's extra classes had finished. The idle janitors closet was certainly being used more than it ever had been. Though not, perhaps, in the way intended by the closet installers.  
  
***************************  
  
In a way, it was the closet that caused them to turn the corner. It was small and dark in there, which wasn't a problem - at least not for Seamus and Harry. Which was why Harry was startled when _something _ delivered a solid whack to his left shin.  
  
He tore his mouth from Seamus' - the better to say, "Ow!"  
  
"Huh? Wha'?"   
  
Harry squinted into the darkness, wincing at another vicious blow to his side, accompanied by a…swooshing sound?  
  
"It's the mop! It's attacking!"  
  
"The mop is attacking?!"   
  
"Get down!"   
  
Just then, a particularly violent blow from the mop knocked Harry off-balance. He banged against Seamus, sending them both floorward. Harry landed with an oof on something soft and Seamus-shaped.  
  
"Owww," Seamus exclaimed breathlessly. "Harry, you're squishing me."  
  
Above them, the mop continued it's rampage, bumping off shelves and knocking pine-scented cleaning products off the shelves.  
  
Harry shifted.  
  
"Ow, Harry…ohhhhhhh."  
  
And so, the miracle of Full-Body Contact was discovered.  
  
*******************************  
  
Seamus hadn't exactly been a shrinking violet before, but now, he was all systems go. He even helped with research, so that their "carrot-time" as he called it, was maximised.  
  
At first, Harry had been embarrassed, even as his body shuddered with pleasure Rubbing up against Seamus, rubbing his body parts against Seamus' parts…it reminded Harry of everything he should never have done, and had done anyway because it felt good. Like getting up early on Sundays to fill in the crossword before Uncle Vernon.  
  
Which was another reason he felt vaguely uncomfortable about the whole thing. Aunt Petunia, cranky with embarrassment, had once had a talk with him about Boy-things. This seemed to mean not leaving the toilet seat up. He remembered his Aunt, flushed red, talking about "private parts", and "not inflicting oneself on the rest of the household."  
  
It had seemed sort of embarrassing to have….private parts at all, the way she had talked about it. This - this thing with Seamus - it felt like he was _glorying _ in the fact that he had those parts.  
  
It felt so good he couldn't bring himself to stop.  
  
*************************  
  
After a couple of repetitions, his embarrassment had lessened. Which was, of course, the time Seamus decided to take it up a notch.  
  
The scroll was due in on Monday, so neither he nor Seamus could go into Hogsmeade at the weekend. Instead, they remained in the bedroom, Harry writing feverishly.  
  
"Hard luck," Ron had commiserated. "Bet you'll be glad when this is over. We've hardly seen you the past couple of weeks."  
  
Harry had bent over his work to hide the blush flooding his face.  
  
"I'd stay," Ron said, "Only I'm running out of chocolate frogs - and you _know _ Hermione won't" -   
  
"It's all right," Harry said. "Really. Anyway, I have Seamus for company." His nose was almost buried in the scroll at this point.  
  
"Yeah - what am I? Chopped liver?" Seamus had asked indignantly.  
  
***************************  
  
They'd managed another two feet of scroll before they took a break. "Only another six inches to go," Harry sighed in relief.  
  
"Yes!" Seamus crowed. "Hah! Wanna celebrate?"  
  
"Um, okay," Harry agreed, moving towards him.  
  
"No - I mean, wait. I had an idea."  
  
***************************  
  
Harry had been aghast. "I don't think…"  
  
"C'mon," Seamus wheedled. "It'll be good. Promise."  
  
"I just don't know…"  
  
"Look - listen. Do you trust me? Don't answer that. Okay - do you trust McGonagall?"  
  
"…yes," Harry said cautiously.  
  
"all right. You know how she's always saying things like - 'Seamus - pay attention!' Or 'Seamus - be logical!'?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Well, I decided to take her advice. Logically: rubbing each other off feels good, right? Rubbing each other with clothes in the way is good. Therefore, logically, it would feel even better if we didn't have any clothes on. You following me?"  
  
"I-I guess," Harry tried to calm the butterflies on his stomach.  
  
"And when are we gonna have this chance again? Everybody's in Hogsmeade," Seamus directed a questioning look at Harry, who shrugged in agreement.  
  
"'Kay. So, strip."  
  
The butterflies went wild in Harry's stomach, as if they'd sighted someone with a large net.  
  
Seamus sighed. "Fine. On the count of three. One, two" -   
  
"That's cheating!" Harry exclaimed, as Seamus ripped his jumper off on 'two'.  
  
"Better hurry then - if you don't want me to win," he said, pulling down his pants.  
  
Harry undid buttons and unzipped zips until he had no choice but to stand up straight and…look.  
  
"You ready?" Seamus asked, like they were late for class or something.  
  
"Unngh," he managed.  
  
"Sorry, but our choices for today are limited to 'yes' or 'no'. With a strong lean towards 'yes'."   
  
"What do you call your private parts?" he blurted out in panic. He felt sure that Seamus would have some other word for them. Seamus didn't even understand the meaning of the word private, his mind babbled hysterically.  
  
Seamus stared at him before snickering. "You mean, you don't do this if you haven't been introduced? I can see your point - I'm not that kinda boy either." He looked down at his…and said gravely, "So, Seamus' dick - meet Harry's dick." He gestured across at Harry's - private parts.  
  
Dick. Dick. Seamus' dick. His…dick. It sounded funny, but a lot less prissy that 'private parts'…  
  
Harry was so wrapped up he was stunned when Seamus tackled him onto the bed. Through the zinging shock of body contact, he faintly heard Seamus say, "C'mon, c'mon, can we do it already…we've been introduced and all…"  
  
Harry hardly listened; as Seamus was too busy running his hands up arms, down his back, across his stomach - over every bit of skin he could find. Harry wanted to…well, go with it, like Seamus was able to, but all he felt was awareness of his own nakedness. Then Seamus moved up restlessly, lowered himself until he was covering Harry from head to foot. He kissed Harry, but a new sensation caused Harry to gasp against his mouth. Their…dicks (*dicks, definitely not private parts* Harry thought) brushed against each other for the first time, and Harry couldn't stop himself from arching up, looking for more. More of the strange jolts that zinged through him, only to return to his groin, to make his dick (*getting better at thinking it * he noted absently) throb with pleasure.  
  
He had to spread his legs, thrust against Seamus' thigh, grab onto his shoulders, slide his tongue into Seamus' mouth. Had to, had to. He didn't see what else he could do. Any inhibitions he had had were kissed out of him by Seamus, and all the nagging feelings of half-shame disappeared as he shook with white-hot satisfaction, face buried in Seamus' neck.   
  
"D'you remember how to breathe?" Seamus asked afterwards in a strangled voice.   
  
"Mmm," Harry said, not feeling up to speech.  
  
"Think you could show me how it's done?" 


End file.
